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Page 384
hooves slashing at the head of the closest horse. Well braced against the move, Ian did not even look in that direction. Instead he repeated the move he had made against Wenneval on the second knight. This time, however, he did not hold his hand. His concession to the spirit of the tourney was to turn his blade so that the edge would not sever fingers and wrist. A most satisfactory yowl greeted the landing of his blow.
"Yield," he shouted, as he presented the point of his sword at his disarmed opponent's chest. Simultaneously, he swung his shield back and up to guard a blow from the other side.
"Yielded!" came the reply. A name followed, but Ian did not heed. If the man was honest, he would seek Ian out after the tourney was over and make arrangements to pay his ransom. If not, he would ride back home, less a sword and with a shadow on his conscience. To Ian, it did not make any difference. His attention was all for the other knight of the pair, who was a somewhat better swordsman. That duel took longer, but eventually ended the same way. Again Ian did not wait for assurance of whom he had bested. Ahead he could see the colors of Philip of Albini, a gentleman whose fighting skills he respected as deeply as he deplored his politics. Albini's head turned toward Ian's shouted challenge, and he spurred forward eagerly. Ian drew breath. This would be a duel worth while.
Neither fear nor rage can remain at fever pitch for very long, particularly in a warm and open person. Very soon after Ian crossed swords with Arundel, Alinor found herself more interested in the action than in her own emotions. Idiot though he was, she could not forbear a swelling pride in her husband. If Ian did not have the enormous strength of Simon, he was quicker and more graceful. It was thrilling to see him hold so famous a warrior as Arundel at bay more and more easily. Nor was the generosity of Ian's rescue of Robert

 
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